47A/N: My knowledge of Miami geography is scant to none. Use your imagination. And now I'm starting out with cool country quotes.
o-o-o-o-o
"I've god-darn gone and done it." -Shania Twain
o-o-o-o-o-
Tucker shivered. The girls had stripped him to boxers and were holding up articles of clothing to him.
"Green's his color."
"But he was already wearing green when he saw Speed Racer!"
Speed Racer was now the code name for Dallas Carsyn. Tucker groaned and stuck his hands under his arms. Somebody turned on the air conditioner and he was freezing. They got a cheap, cheap motel that had decent living quarters and showers. The twins shared a room. but everyone else got their own.
"What time did he say?" asked Tiff.
"I don't remember," he mumbled. He was swatted on the head by Mel, which apparently could jostle Tuck's memory. "Seven on the pier."
"Where are you going to eat?"
"Causal restaurant."
"Ok, casual, that narrows it down."
"Pier, it'll be cold. Maybe a pull-over?"
"How about khaki beach shorts and a nice sweater?
"Cliché, dear."
There was much bickering between the three girls. Loraleet and Tucker exchanged glances; Tucker on a pedestal of a desk chair and Loraleet on the bed, thumbing through a new sports magazine.
"C'mon, he needs to be cute but not that cute!" squeaked Trix.
"Can't I just wear my jeans and a T-shirt?"
"No," was the unanimous answer.
Loraleet sighed, closing her magazine and standing up. She went to her own suitcase and pulled out a maroon men's sport shirt she ripped out of a Nike clothes-rack. She went to Tuck's and everyone else's.
In five minutes, he was wearing Lor's long-sleeved maroon nylon shirt, his worn Levis that fit in all the right places, Mel's tiny silver hoop for his ear piercing, Tiff's jade sweater, and a pair of his silky navy boxers just in case. Loraleet also made Trix let him use her chain necklace that had a lucky Celtic symbol on it. It was hidden between the sweater and the shirt.
"You, my dear, are a lifesaver," he said to her as he walked by on his way out the door. She simply winked and mouthed 'good luck'. Tiff gave him a thumb's up and the twins were chorusing 'go get 'im Tuck!'
He closed the door and slumped against the motel wall. How was he talked into this? He was in Miami, going to a date of a man he just met. Boy howdy, had he changed. But his heart had been left broken the past seven months and with some band-aids, his friends were trying to mend it. He smiled, feeling the Celtic charm underneath his sweater. He wore a bit of everyone. Tucker smiled, taking a deep breath and started his walk to the pier.
o-o-o-o-o
Unlike Tucker, Dallas did not have a entourage of females to help him with his wardrobe. He only had Tobias, who wasn't as fashion-inclined as an ex-Sports Illustrated model. But he still could make decent input. They were in their own hotel room, two miles from Tucker's hotel.
"How's this?" Dallas asked, showing off a pair of khaki slacks and black shirt.
Tobias flipped the channel to a soap opera, "Eh."
"You are not helping."
"Jesus, Dallas, throw on your NASCAR jacket and leave already!"
"I can't wear that jacket! People will notice," he said, throwing off his shirt and shuffling through his things.
"Like they didn't notice already..."
"What about this?" he asked, throwing on a tight blue T-shirt that read 'Personal Bubble!' and a nice jean jacket. Tobias gave him a half-assed OK with his hand and shooed him. He was expecting a bikini volleyball girl in ten.
Dallas threw a pair of dirty underwear in his face before walking out. He heard the disgusted groan of his friend when he left the five-star hotel. He passed a bouncy blonde scantily clad in a yellow bikini and cut-offs. He gave her a wink and a nod to the room he came out of. She giggled and swayed a little quicker to the room. He smirked and wondered if that man from the tik bar giggled. Tucker, wasn't it?
He supposed they would meet at the pier then hustle off to some fish and chips cafe. Afterwards, they'd hit the pier again and maybe a little bit more of something else afterwards. He shivered. Dallas hadn't dated a guy in ages; he dumped the last one when he went big in NASCAR. Bad publicity.
The racer took a taxi, not feeling like walking and smelling like a 'who knows what'.
o-o-o-o-o
Tucker leaned against the railings at the very end of the pier, looking out to sea, and feeling the cool ocean breeze playing with his hair. He was thankful for the sweater. The sun wasn't setting, but it would be in about an hour. It just hung in the sky like a golden medallion. He propped his elbow on the wooden rail and rested his chin on his knuckles. He was rarely by the coast, so he was enjoying the blissful moment he had without his lovely gaggle of girls.
He then felt a hand brush casually across the small of his back which was conveniently bare, which made him turn abruptly. Speed Racer was dressed in less fancy clothing, but he seemed to rather enjoy Tuck's 'choice' in fashion. The way he was leaning exposed the pale skin of his back and Dallas couldn't help but touch him as he strided beside the sweet eye-candy of a tourist.
"Hey there, beautiful," he said in a low voice, leaning backwards against the railing too. Tucker finally got his heart out of his throat. "H-hey."
That was smooth, thought Tucker, wanting to slap himself. The blush on Tucker's face only made Dallas' smile and run a hand through his windswept hair. Tucker felt his face get even hotter.
"Shall we go?" he said after let the ocean breeze cooling him down. Dallas nodded, that smirk still playing on his features.
Dallas led the way to a fish and chips place full of half-dressed people. Both of them seemed out of place, but no one really cared. They ordered their drinks and food at the counter, not really paying attention to each other's orders but their body language. Tucker liked to lean forward, and he rarely stood with his feet completely together. Dallas was the exact opposite. They sat down in the cheap plastic chair surrounding a small table with it's top covered in magazine covers then covered in a hard gloss. It was a neat craft idea.
"So, what do you do for a living?" asked Dallas, licking the ranch off his fingers from dipping fried calamari. Tucker shrugged a bit, "I run a bar back home."
Dallas raised a suggestive eyebrow at him, which made Tucker chuckle, "No, not that kind of bar. Just a local place called Rodeo Moon."
"Get a lot of cowboys?" asked Dallas.
"I guess you can say that," Tuck replied, finishing up his fried fish and clam chowder.
"I hate cowboys," he said, before sipping his soda. That statement made Tucker stop halfway between getting a spoonful of chowder to his mouth and stare at him a bit shocked and nervously. Dallas blinked a few times curiously, but Tuck finished his spoonful and started to down his own soda.
"What?" asked Dallas, kicking his feet into the extra chair.
"Nothing," he said quickly. Well, that was a bad thing. "Why don't you like cowboys?"
"I just don't. The thought of wallowing in manure most of the day then coming home dusty and bowlegged just doesn't appeal to me. And the way they wear those hats and shirts is just a little, I don't know. Just don't like them."
Tucker dropped his spoon and excused himself for the bathroom. He thanked God there was no line and locked himself in the one-room bathroom. He leaned against the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Hate cowboys? How could that hunk of NASCAR handsome hate cowboys? Didn't in come with the job to be favorable to cowboys and rednecks? He spalshed a bit of water in his face, trying to wash away the sunk-in smell of the ranch. He looked at his hands. Callused as hell, not bartender hands. He washed his hands too. The only things cowboy in his wardrobe right then was that hat he was forbidden to wear, those sunglasses Dallas already saw him in, and a few pairs of Wranglers. He didn't even like Wranglers!
By the time Dallas started to worry, Tucker came out with a new resolution. It wasn't like this was going to last, they were in Miami for chrissakes! It wasn't like Dallas was going to follow him home. He could play normal, average small-town bartender. No big deal. Dallas raised an eyebrow when Tucker flashed a smile at him before sitting down.
They left the fish and chips place and walked back to the pier, talking. About different things, but the tension was steadily rising. They could feel it, with each little glance and move.
They went to the edge of the pier, and watched the sun set into a firecracker sea, it's fly-away sparks becoming the stars stuck in the sky. Night surfers were skimming the waves expertly, tourists were leaving for the bars, and lovers who watched the sunset were walking back to the city, barefoot and holding hands. The two men, unfortunately, kept to their mutual promise of hands off until out of public eye.
Apparently under the pier was out of the public's eye. Dallas had led the way through the large pillars that held up the pier to an area shielded by cement walls, the bottom of the pier, and clear sand. It was amazingly void of any trash, probably as courtesy of make-out couples before them. Tucker became a bit nervous, not wanting to get his friends' things sandy but that little Celtic charm felt hot in his clenched hand. Even though his logical mind knew it was from his body heat, he took as a 'go for it!'.
Dallas circled his hands around Tucker's waist and pulled him in. Being taller, he tilted Tuck's head up and pushed away his bangs before claiming the man's lips. Tucker could feel his legs buckle but was able to stand up and run his hands through Dallas' hair. They delved into each other's mouths, hands wandering everywhere; though Dallas had one hand supporting Tucker's arched neck. The racer was knocked backwards into the sand into a sitting position, the other fitting in his lap. Tucker wrapped his legs around his waist and splayed his hands against his chest. Dallas groaned into the man's mouth, running his hands under Tuck's shirt and up his back, sending the cowboy into shivers. Seven months of idleness was unleashed onto the racer and he was enjoying every hot and sweaty second of it. Tuck opened the racer's levi jacket to run his hands over the man's chest but he had to stop and laugh at his shirt.
"Your personal bubble has been popped," he said huskily before Tuck started to bite playfully at his neck. Dallas chuckled because it was funny and his neck was ticklish.
But they couldn't get much farther than hot clothes-on action without risk of being seen or incredibly sandy. Dallas pointed this out half-heartedly, not wanting to stop the sexy man on his lap.
Tucker frowned, knowing that if he took the racer back to his place, the girls would definitely maul the both of them. Even if they came down here for him to do exactly what he was planning to do. Dallas was in the same position, but it was because his bud would maul him for interrupting the session with the bikini girl. They clung to each other, Tucker stroking Dallas' stomach with a callused hand. The tension had subsided a bit, but they still felt a intense longing.
"Isn't there somewhere else?" asked the cowboy, whispering into Dallas' ear. It made the hair on the back of the racer neck stand up. He was getting a rush like he did when that starting flag flew down. Dallas was going to not care about public eye or sand much longer; his restraint was wearing thin.
"Got a car?"
"Isn't mine and I don't think Loraleet will appreciate stuff all over her leather seats."
"I flew."
o-o-o-o-o
They walked close enough to feel each other's warmth but far enough not to spark suspicion. They were officially bummed, they weren't going to get any that night. Unless they felt the need to fork out a lot of dinero to buy a crappy second-rate room in an old motel, the two were going back.
Dallas sighed, running a hand through his hair before looking over at Tuck, who was staring straight ahead. There wasn't anything they could really do about it. Maybe tomorrow they'd have better luck.
Wait, tomorrow? Dallas blinked. He didn't think this thing they had would last even a night. But they didn't have much of a night and he demanded a do-over.
"Hey," he said stopping to face the man who was carrying his shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other.
"Yes?"
"I might be able to pull a few strings. Do...do you want to go out again tomorrow?"
Tucker bit his lip and looked at his feet. "What time?" he said after a long pause. Dallas smirked, "Three?"
"Ooh, better make it four."
"Why?" he asked tilting his head. Tucker made an embarrassed and scared face, "The girls are making me go parasailing."
Dallas snorted, trying not to laugh. Tucker kicked him in the shin with his bare foot, smiling. They continued walking until they reached a point where they had to go in different directions. The racer looked around him nervously before stealing a kiss from a surprised Tucker. Then he nodded good-bye to him and turned towards his hotel.
Tucker stood stunned for a few seconds before hastily turning on his heel and walking to his motel. He started to jog and almost wanted to jump and punch the air with a 'hell yeah!'. But he saved it until he got into his room. He turned on Mel's CD player and sang along to some Shania song when the Fantastic Four came busting in.
"Well?!" shrieked Melanie and Trix. He shut his trap and was frozen with his thumbs in his belt loops.
They clambered in, except for Loraleet who strode in, and shut the door. The full-on assault was unleashed.
"Did he pay?"
"Where'd you go?"
"Did he kiss you goodnight?"
"Did you get any?"
Tuck sat down with a big ol' silly grin. The girls shrieked and started to hug him.
"Was he good?" asked Tiff, patting his hair.
"All we did was make out under the pier. We had nowhere else to do anything," he said sadly, but still with that grin.
"You could have come back here," pouted Mel. Tuck looked at her as if to say, 'Yeah, right'.
"Y'all would be listening through the wall with the cup they give you for when you brush your teeth."
From the look on the twins' and Tiff's face, that's was exactly what they were planning to do. Loraleet was a bit more courteous. She'd blast her headphones and pretend to not notice the vibrations from the bed rocking. Tuck shooed them out, but he was stripped of their belongings, leaving him in only pants. He collapsed on the bed, to lazy to even take off pants and fell asleep clutching a pillow.
o-o-o-o-o
A/N: Mm, citrusy.